


Make 'em shine

by filthyes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Boot Worship, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Military Kink, Porn with Feelings, Porn with minimal Plot, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthyes/pseuds/filthyes
Summary: "I better see my reflection in these boots, soldier." Jack wants what they used to have. Gabe does too, in a way.





	1. When you're talking with your hips, I know you're going insane.

The sound of heavy boots across padded carpet filled the sterile air of the Strike-Commander's office. A sharp breath here, the slow drag of a heel against shag there. His hearing was sharp, enough to hear those footsteps stop just feet away from the blonde, kneeling and blindfolded in the middle of his own office. His hands grip tighter on clothed knees, fingernails digging hard into covered flesh.

"Pretty nice view." A deep voice spoke, so low he could have missed it if he wasn't so focused the presence above him.

The soft creak of his polished leather chair, followed by the wheels dragging across the floor made the Strike-Commander perk, back muscles straining to stay upright.

A quiet chuckle was all he heard before he felt gloved fingers tightening in his hair.

"I better see my reflection in these boots, soldier." He spat, pushing his Strike-Commander's face to his boots. A pathetic whimper broke through Jack's clenched teeth.

"Yes Reyes, s-sir." His voice cracked in the end. The smell of the dull leather filled his senses, flaring lust deep in his gut, making his mouth water and his face flush bright.

"Make 'em shine, Jackie." He could see Gabriel's smirk from the tone of his voice. Jack's tongue darted out, tasting the grime. He grunted softly, running his lips from toe to heel, savoring the taste of dirty leather on his tongue.

"That's it, get them nice and wet for me." Gabriel's voice was a low rumble, the vibrations of it sending spikes of arousal down his spine. Jack keened against the boot, slowly running his hand down to his clothed cock, palming the stiffness through his clothes. The boot was swiftly pulled away from his seeking mouth, earning an indignant huff from Gabriel.

"I'll tell you when you can touch yourself. Boots. Now." Gabriel growled, the utter dominance in his voice pulling pinpricks under the Jack's skin.

Jack whimpered, "I'm sorry sir. I won't touch myself again sir." The boot was shoved back under his face, which he immediately latched onto, tongue trailing the sides of the worn leather.

Gabriel hummed in response, lounging back in the Strike-Commander's seat. Gabriel palmed his half-hard member through his fatigues, slowly unzipping them and lazily stroking himself.

Having his superior on his knees, the man who ruined his faith in the military system, licking his boots no less; It sent a sick, pleasing thrill down his spine. Jack was always submissive like this. Gabriel remembered their time together in basic; Jack loved being on his knees, on his back, on all fours, in the showers, in the barracks, taking his pleasure wherever he can, like a bitch in heat. His promotion to Strike-Commander never changed that fact.

Gabriel pulled his boot away, presenting the other boot. Jack gave all his attention to it, soft slurping noises and breathy moans rushing out of the dignified Strike-Commander's lips.

"You wanna touch yourself now, soldier?" Gabriel bit out, voice harsh and strained from arousal. Jack let out a muffled 'mmhm', nodding his head rapidly. Gabriel chuckled, "Now."

That single word had Jack tearing open his fly, pushing his boxers down far enough so he can wrap his fist around his leaking cock, pink and dribbling pre into the carpet. His muffled moans grew in cadence, echoing in his spacious office. His head falls to one side, cheek resting against Gabriel's boot, mouth open and drooling into the spit-shone leather.

Gabriel pauses, eyeing his boots and appraising the quality of Jack's work. "Good boy, you got them nice and clean. Just how I like them."

Jack's breath hitches, "Thank you, sir. Anything to please you sir." His breathing picks up speed, fist moving quicker along his length.

Gabriel moves a hand down, fist curling through golden locks. He pulls the Strike-Commander's face towards his cock, stroking faster, breathing uneven. "My good soldier, always does what he's told. Always grateful for the praise he's given." Gabriel grits out, bitterly, breathing coming out in soft hisses. He grunts as his cock pulses, toes curling in his boots as thick ropes of cum splatter on the Strike-Commander's face, on his hair, running down his cheeks.

The scent of Gabriel's seed pushes Jack over the edge, eyes screwed shut, mouth forming over the words ' _thank you, sir_ ' over and over again, his orgasm rocking through him, his hand cupping the head of his cock as to not mess up the work he's done.

The two don't move for a long while, breaths lingering and evening out. Not until the tacky feeling of cum drying in the cold, clinical air of the office forces Jack to sit upright. Gabriel tucks himself back into his fatigues, pushes himself up with the arms of his Strike-Commander's chair, and walks briskly towards the door, looking over his shoulder one last time.

"Clean yourself up. You're a mess, soldier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter titles are from The Frights - "Puppy Knuckles"
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


	2. But when we're together, I feel like a fool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's got some unhealthy habits.

All Jack could hear was Gabriel's screaming. All Gabriel could hear was the rush of blood, ringing in his ears. He took a few beats, calming himself.

"Get out of my office, Morrison."

"You can't ignore this forever, Gabriel." Jack seethed, underneath his professional calm.

Gabriel lurched out of his seat, slamming a fist against the old, rickety wood of his desk. "I am not ignoring it. I am handling it, internally." Gabriel hissed.

"I want a god damn report then! A short message, a post it note on my desk, anything! Just tell me what's being done!" Jack raised his voice, face flushing with barely contained frustration. He wasn't used to demanding things from others. As Strike-Commander of one of the most prolific international security agencies in the world, information isn't usually something withheld from him.

"You know you have no authority here, you have nothing to gain from knowing what we're doing." Gabriel spoke clearly, "But, we are handling the issue of our missing agents. That's all I'm telling you."

Morrison's jaw clenched, fists tight on each side. "Maybe you won't tell me, but I can let the brass know I'm being denied information from one of my own divisions."

"You're not in charge here. Now, _get out_." Gabriel snarled, rounding the corner of his desk and grabbing a fistful of Jack's black shirt.

Jack whimpered, hands gripping the arm holding him. He felt his pulse leap at the contact, feigning to keep his composure. A small, pathetic whimper rumbles from his throat.

Gabriel shoved him against the wall, eyes wild with rage. "Is this the only reason you come and see me anymore? You come here and instigate something, you argue and argue..." He lurched forward, his twisted mouth so close to Jack's ear. "Then you beg for my dick when I lose my temper?" Gabriel snarled.

Jack cast his eyes away, cold pinpricks against his skin setting his nerves alight.

Gabriel, stunned by his silence, by his utter lack of denial, dropped him by the collar and walked back to his chair, burying his face in his hands. "Just leave, Jack," he muttered.

"Gabriel," Jack walked slowly, deliberately, to his side, fingers sliding over cool wood until they touched Gabriel's shoulder. He sunk to his knees, looking up at Gabriel, patiently waiting.

"Why do you keep coming back?" Gabriel turned to him, eyeing the blonde warily.

Jack looks down, at his knees.

"Say something, Jack."

He drags his gaze upwards. His eyes look heavy, shiny with poorly held back tears. Gabriel cringes internally at his pathetic little display, turning his chair and nudging Jack's knees with his boot. He's not surprised to see the straining bulge.

"Fucking pathetic." Gabriel mumbles, pressing his boot firmly between Jack's legs.

"T-Thank you." Jack whimpers. Gabriel presses harder. "S-Sir." Jack keeps his hands firmly on his knees.

"You're going to cum just like this. On my boot, in your pants, nothing else. Then, you're going to leave. Got that, soldier?"

Jack mewled at his command, his hips pushing up, rutting shamelessly against the leather clad foot. "Yes sir."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna keep this going for as long I've got the inspiration for it.


End file.
